About an hour's trek west of Bogtown, on the edge of the Barrow Moor lives an archetypical witch-woman. Or so rumour goes.
Asking about the Toadmother, you get varied answers on the same theme. "She is an old crone ... a witch ... a hag ... a crazy frog woman ... a moon druid ... a troll-kin.".
Whatever the fears, it seems that the woman is routinely sought in order to scry into futures, open the wombs of the barren, lift curses or even to cast a corrupting hex upon a rival.
The path to her lodge is not well worn or signposted, most who seek her out do so following the croak and whoop of large bulbous eyed toads that gather around her dwelling and line the trails. Inevitably, your arrival is created by a cacophony of bloated throats.
Toadmother, a title more than a name. She lives within a cave set back into a small rock face, the entrance sheltered under the roots of overhanging trees. A large bog surrounds her abode which bubbles with strange sulphurous gases and often is lit with ethereal willowy wispy lights that shimmer and glean above the patches of thick reeds.
Despite the swarm of amphibians that dwell alongside her, frogs the size of shields and wide mouthed toads that could swallow a gnome in one gulp, passage to her hovel is not dangerous. At least, not so seemingly for those who have no ill intent.
With the alarm croaks and perhaps gifted knowledge of your approach, Toadmother seems forewarned and prepared for your arrival.
